


Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

by NoPlaceLikeHome



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoPlaceLikeHome/pseuds/NoPlaceLikeHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Constance refuses to give up hope that she will be with her family soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Constance looked into the face before her and saw the features of the man she loved most alongside her own. Her heart filled at the sight of what so much love can bring a person. 

The baby blinked her blue eyes and yawned, stretching her tiny fists into the air. Constance grabbed one hand and held onto it.

“Constance,” Athos murmured, “I’m sorry, but you must say goodbye.” He stood in the doorway of the room D’Artagnan once occupied. Constance was on the bed after only an hour of holding her only child; a child she had not created with her husband. 

“But I only just got her,” Constance replied, swallowing around her tears. 

“You know that Aramis and I will take her to safety – to D’Artagnan.” Athos crossed the room and sat in the chair at her bedside. His hands were occupied in turning his hat about, looking everywhere but at the baby. 

Aramis entered the room, removing his hat and making a regal bow.

“It is true, Madame. Your child is our top priority. We will ensure that she is handed over to the safe care of her father. But won’t you consider coming with us?”

Constance shook her head, tightening her hold on her child. Queen Anne needed her here, now. Watching Bonacieux and his associates. She would not jeopardize everything they had planned together. Even if it meant saying goodbye to her child for a short while. Even if it meant that her heart was torn into two. 

The child had been a surprise in their plans. 

When Bonacieux had first discovered her pregnancy, he had known it could not have been his child. They had not been together in that way in many months. And he had known exactly where Constance had been spending her time and her affections. 

His anger was quiet at first as he came to terms with being cuckolded yet again. But after the initial shock, he raged against “the abomination,” as he came to call the child in private. 

But Bonacieux was not so evil as to want the child dead. He had commanded that she find some place for the child for after its birth. They would tell everyone that the child had been stillborn. He would not have a Gascon “bastard” under his roof. 

At that early stage of her pregnancy, Constance had confided in Athos – and only in Athos. He, with his serious face and pinched expressions, reminded her so much of her eldest brother that she trusted him beyond anyone in the world. Athos wanted to tell D’Artagnan immediately, but Constance worried about his safety. Bonacieux may not hurt the child, but she was certain that he would use his newly formed connections to harm D’Artagnan if he entered under his roof or took Constance from him.

From the moment of its conception, Constance had been protecting the little family she never imagined she could have. She was protecting D’Artagnan and their child. Even now, on the day of its birth, D’Artagnan did not know of the child’s existence. Once it became physically apparent that she was carrying a child, Athos had Tréville send him on a long mission.

“Completely harmless, of course,” He had said, rubbing his brow and looking down. “And I sent Porthos along, too. They think they are guarding a young royal at my estate. The girl is only a well-educated peasant I have paid. We’ll have to inform Aramis, though. He is much more adept at handling children than I am. We will then escort your child to my estate, where there will be a wet nurse and all of us to help D’Artagnan adapt to being a father.” 

She had kissed him soundly on the check at that. 

Looking at him now, she could kiss him again. She knew it wasn’t what he wanted: not letting D’Artagnan know when she was giving birth. But D’Artagnan had to remain outside of the Bonacieux house if she wanted him alive. Constance understood that her husband was at his breaking point. One more transgression with D’Artagnan and he would be dead. 

But Constance had a plan even better than leaving with D’Artagnan. What she and Queen Anne had discovered was going to destroy her husband and allow her to be with D’Artagnan and their daughter. No one would chase after them or condemn them. They would not live in fear but would be the kind of family Constance always wanted. 

She kissed her child on the forehead and handed her over to Athos. Athos started in fright, dropping his hat and holding his hands out awkwardly. 

Aramis snorted, “You have a lot to learn my friend.”

Athos took the child in his hands and held her against his chest. The child snuggled into him and began to fall asleep. Her fist held on tightly to his shirt. 

“What is her name, Constance?” Aramis asked.

“Annie,” Constance replied, sweeping a hand down the baby’s cheek as tears grew in her eyes.

“Annie,” Aramis smiled, “A name for a princess of hearts.”

Constance smiled, and looked with love and wonder at her beautiful child. Athos handed Annie to Aramis and picked his hat up off the floor. The two departed down the steps and out the front door of the Bonacieux house.

Constance’s desolate cries followed them long after they had left her.


	2. That Perches In The Soul

“This is a waste of time,” Porthos growled, attacking a tree with his sword.

D’Artagnan could easily empathize with Porthos’ frustration. They were on Athos’ estate protecting a young noblewoman connected to the king. The past five months had been filled with all the tedium of a long mission with no possibility of action. 

“Are you aiming to destroy all those trees or has that particular one done something to annoy you?” D’Artagnan quipped. 

“We should be fighting villains and watching Rochefort. Not wasting away on an estate as armed nannies.” 

As the personal guards of the woman they were required to remain on the estate with her at all times; Tréville made that very clear when he assigned them their duties. Early on in their duties they had speculated about the young woman’s importance to the king. Was she a lover? Spy? But months with the rather quiet young woman convinced them she was merely a pawn in a bigger game.

D’Artagnan sighed, “Yes, I’m very aware of what we could be doing. But we are not to leave. Athos made it very clear to me that sometimes a Musketeers has to take the long duties to get the exciting missions.”

“Aye,” Porthos said. “That’s true. But I’d thought I’d paid my dues and wouldn’t have to work the boring missions anymore.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not that I blame you, lad. I’m just bored.” 

The sound of riders caused both men to turn their attention away from the conversation. 

“Is that Aramis and Athos?” D’Artagnan asked. “They were just here with updates last week.”

Two horses at a steady pace were headed down the path toward the estate. Their unhurried speed implied that there was no emergency needing attention.

“It is. Athos looks grim.”

“Athos always looks grim,” D’Artagnan smirked, but it turned into a grimace when he saw that Aramis had a bundle.”

The two riders came to a stop in front of the house and began to dismount, Aramis handing a baby to Athos. 

“Well,” D’Artagnan said, smirking, “Don’t tell me that Aramis’ romantic heart seeks to help a young mother. I feel as if we’ve done this before.”

Athos and Aramis exchanged a look, and then both turned their gazes to the ground. The baby in Athos’ arms began to gurgle and wave its tiny arm in the air.

“D’Artagnan. I think it’s best if we took this conversation inside.” Athos placed his free hand on D’Artagnan’s back and lightly propelled him to the door.

\-----------

They settled into one of the house’s sitting rooms, Athos clearly uncomfortable with his charge. Or perhaps he was more uncomfortable with what was to come. He gestured for D’Artagnan to take the seat next to him. Aramis and Porthos remained standing, Porthos clearly trying to read his old friend’s face for a clue.

D’Artagnan sat, barely sparing a glance for the child. He was anxious for what would send the two Musketeers from Paris. 

“Athos, please just tell me. Is there something wrong? Tréville? Or, oh God, Constance?”

When Athos saw the clench of D’Artagnan’s jaw and the emotion in his eyes he did not know how to proceed. He opened his mouth, only to turn to Aramis for guidance. 

“Constance is…as well as can be expected,” Aramis supplied. “D’Artagnan, this is her daughter. Her’s and, well, yours.”

D’Artagnan opened his moth in surprise before shutting it with a sharp click. He finally looked at the baby’s face.

“Give her to me, Athos,” He whispered. Athos complied, awkwardly handing the child over to her father.

Tears gathered in his eyes, “My God. She’s beautiful. Just like Constance.” He looked up sharply. 

“But Constance was in good health. Bonacieux didn’t hurt her and she survived the birth. Correct?”

“Yes,” Athos replied. “Bonacieux knew the child wasn’t his so he demanded it be sent away.”

“She named her Annie,” Aramis supplied.

D’Artagnan bit his lip, torn between a smile and tears. He held the child closer to his chest and the little girl waved her hand in the air again. 

Athos leaned forward.

“I have hired a nursemaid for her. She is waiting upstairs in the nursery. I want you to know that I will provide all I can for her. As you are my brother, she is my niece.”

D’Artagnan seemed to be unable to speak. There were many questions to be asked and he knew he would get angry later, but for now he just wanted to be with his daughter. A person created from him and Constance and the representation of all the love they shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd
> 
> If I get the inspiration I'm hoping to write at least two more chapters featuring D'Artagnan getting angry (as we all know he would) and Constance saving the day (again). I wanted to jump more into Constance's story, but knew this was the most logical progression.


	3. And Sings The Tune Without The Words

Three months into her pregnancy, Constance knew that she must figure out a plan. Her illness interrupted her duties to the queen on multiple occasions and caused several raised brows.

She was in constant turmoil over what she would do next until she was called to attend the queen in private.

Alone in her presence, Constance thought she was about to be dismissed. The queen, as always, had surprised her with her intelligence and kindness.

“Constance,” she said, seeking her eyes. “I know the signs you are showing. I exhibited them myself almost a year ago. And I know that if this pregnancy was part of your marriage your husband would have announced it long ago.”

Constance looked down in shame, but the queen grasped her hand and moved closer.

“It is a remarkable thing to know powerful love,” the queen said, “And I know how much it hurts when you cannot have it. Does your husband know about D’Artagnan?”

“Yes, he-“ Constance cleared her throat and tried again. “He has made it very clear that I should have no contact with D’Artagnan. I am afraid for him, for myself and for our child.” 

“You will stay in the palace until it is time for you to give birth. No, I don’t want to hear any dissent. Here, I can protect you and make sure that you are safe. As my friend, it is the very least I can do for you.”

Constance burst into tears and Anne rushed to her side. 

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. It is just so hard adjusting to the fact that people care about me.” 

“I can certainly understand that. But we are going to have to become accustomed to the fact that we are worth caring for,” Anne replied. 

The two friends laughed, finding joy in another woman’s friendship. 

\---------

Only a few weeks before Constance was to give birth, Anne once again commanded her attention in private. As they entered her sitting room, Anne shut the door securely. She pressed her ear to it and then sighed.

“We are alone. As my dearest friend and trusted advisor I know I can rely on your loyalty, Constance. I believe that your husband has been making friends with my enemies. 

“Why do you think that?”

Anne pursed her lips and glanced toward the door.

“Although Captain Tréville could not be made to be the king’s advisor many months ago, I would not let him refuse me. He is my unnamed counselor who brings me information. According to the captain, a large group of nobles have taken it into their heads that a Spanish queen can no longer be overlooked in French court.

“Your appointment as one of my ladies did not go unnoticed by them. They saw it as their opportunity to befriend your husband. He has been carrying information about the castle, my guards and my plans to the nobles for them to portray me as a traitor to France.”

Constance swallowed.

“And my husband – Bonacieux – would eagerly take any chance he saw to rise to the top. But why haven’t you told the king? Surely he could stop it?” Constance replied.

“The King?” Anne made a laugh that was followed by a sob. “He would not do anything without solid proof against the nobles. We are already on dangerous ground with them after the incident with Rochefort. Aside from that, he is much too invested in his relationship with Milady De Winter to care about what happens to me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Constance replied, standing and taking her hand. “But whatever you ask of me, I will do it.”

“I knew you would help me,” Anne wiped the tears from her eyes. “And my plan will save you, as well as me. In the end, Bonacieux will be imprisoned; you will be granted an annulment and can marry D’Artagnan. All will end happily.

“But it will take some time. The information Tréville has brought me suggests that they want to wait the Dauphin’s birthday, two months from now. I am not sure what they plan to do, but we must play the long game. You will be my information gatherer on this side of the court. I want to know how they plan to frame me as an enemy of the country I have come to call my own. The captain can only do so much from where he is positioned.”

The two friends embraced, sharing the burden of loneliness and despair with each other. 

Anne stood back and set her shoulders.

“Now,” she said, “tell me all about your relationship with D’Artagnan. I would like to hear something happy for once. Before I have to give you all the murky details of what your new position as my spy entails.” 

Constance laughed and gladly shared the story of falling in love for the first time with a wild Musketeer. 

\---------  
She had moved back to the palace only a day after giving birth and had returned to her official duties five weeks after that. All of the ladies gave her sympathetic glances, believing her husband’s story that the child was dead at birth. 

Separation from her child made Constance weep. The sorrow added credence to her husband’s story. Only she knew that the child was alive and in the care of her father. Holding her child in her arms had been her greatest dream. If only she could remember the details to carry her through the day.

A hand taking her own startled Constance out of her reverie. She turned toward the queen who had joined her at the window overlooking a garden.

“Constance. I promise that once this is over you will have every happiness that you deserve,” Anne vowed. 

Constance’s exhalation turned into a sob. Anne took her into her arms and turned to the other women present.

“Leave us.”

As the women filed out, Anne directed Constance toward a chair. She let her cry, rubbing Constance’s back and providing her with a goblet of wine. 

“Thank you,” Constance said. “But we cannot waste any time. I have information for you that will hopefully end this dreadful mess. The tears just happened to come at an opportune moment to clear the room.”

The queen sat in the chair adjacent to her. 

“Tell me then, Constance.”

“Remember how I told you I overheard Lady Horn and the Duke of Montmorency discussing someone at the King’s side being in charge of the rebellion?”

The queen nodded.

“Well, I saw the Duke meeting with Milady De Winter in the dungeons. I followed him down there after he conspicuously left the ball last night. They entered an empty cell where he detailed their plans.”

“My God,” Anne held tight to the crucifix on her necklace. “What does she want? To be queen? She can’t imagine that the king would marry her even if I were dead.”

Constance bit her lip, “I’m not sure what she is getting out of it. But it wouldn't take much to drive her to devise such a scheme. I’ve dealt with Milady before where she threatened my life for revenge on a musketeer.”

“What’s this? I’ve never heard a word of any such thing.”

“It was thought she fled Paris. We were wrong and couldn’t correct our mistake after she befriended the king. But I never expected her to play a part in this.”

Nodding, Anne rearranged her skirts.

“So, tell me of their plans.”

Constance detailed the scheme meant to frame Anne for the greatest treason of all. Anne sat in silence through the rest of the tale but Constance saw her anxiety in the set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders. She finally spoke after Constance laid out all the details of the plan she could discover during her time as a spy in the castle.

“Well, I think it’s time that we called D’Artagnan and his friends back to court,” Anne said.

Constance grinned. She would finally see D’Artagnan again. She had finally felt the excitement that came with all the risks of a great adventure. And, in the end, she would finally have her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd!
> 
> Female friendship a focus after an excellent night with my best friend.


	4. And Never Stops - At All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, has it been a month? I'm so sorry!

D’Artagnan paced the nursery in agitation, holding his new daughter in his arms. 

“So all of you thought it was in my best interest if I knew nothing about Constance or my child?” D’Artagnan whispered.

“The blame lies with me,” Athos replied. “Constance made me promise to keep it a secret and I did. Porthos knew nothing and Aramis was only told after you were sent away.”

D’Artagnan grimaced.

“How did I not notice that she was pregnant? I feel as if I’ve failed her.”

“You are pretty daft, mate,” Porthos comforted with a grin.

D’Artagnan turned his consternation on him. “You didn’t figure it out, either.”

Porthos’ grin disappeared. “Aye. I suppose that’s true.”

Athos crossed the room to D’Artagnan and reached a hand out for his shoulder. The younger musketeer whipped himself out of the way to avoid his touch. Athos sighed. 

“I am sorry, D’Artagnan. But Constance had a number of fears, including for your safety and for her position with the queen. Once Constance was resolved to keep it from you, I had Tréville send you on a mission.” Athos removed his hat and sat in one of the chairs about the room. 

“Constance said, Constance wanted, Constance feared. Did no one think to ask me what I thought was best?” As D’Artagnan’s volume increased, the baby in his arms began crying at her father’s distress.

D’Artagnan looked stricken that he had woken Annie from sleeping. He swallowed and held her out to Aramis, a silent request in his eyes.

Aramis sighed, threw his hat on a chair and took the child in his arms. Until this moment he had not spoken but he took his chance now. 

“I think,” he said, rocking the child into quiet, “That Constance had every right to decide what she thought was best. But you should have been made party to that decision.”

D’Artagnan looked to Athos in triumph, who rolled his eyes in reply.

Aramis continued.

“And I think that it is every person’s right to prepare for the arrival of a child in their life. But with Constance’s position there is a larger game at play. Athos and I have been made privy to information about a plot against the queen.”

“What?” D’Artagnan and Porthos said in unison. 

“This is not the right place,” Athos said. “Give D’Artagnan back his daughter.” 

Aramis returned the child to D’Artagnan, who stared down at her face.

“Tell me the truth, Athos.” He said, letting the child grasp his finger. “If I had known, would I have made the situation better or worse.” 

“Worse. With your temper and pride, I fear all three of you would be dead now.”

D’Artagnan nodded and turned to lay his child in the cradle provided by Athos.

The three older Musketeers left the room. D’Artagnan gave his daughter one last look before leaving her to the care of a nanny.

He could see to his duties as a musketeer now that he had taken care of his child.

\---------

Athos laid out what he and Aramis knew before the other two Musketeers as the sat at a table in the kitchen of the house. Rochefort was framing the queen for treason, saying that the dauphin was not the son of the king. He was also a Spanish spy.

Bonacieux was a part of the plot, as well. He had carried messages to the Spanish under the guise of providing them with new clothing. His business was booming as he bragged about being the finest draper in Europe. 

“How did we manage to get so much information? Usually we know few details before we have to save the nobles.” Porthos said.

Aramis and Athos exchanged looks across the table.

“We have an informant,” Athos said. He leaned forward in his chair and took a long drink from his goblet.

Porthos grunted. “I know that look and it means nothing good. Who is it?”

“Milady de Winter.”

After Porthos and D’Artagnan’s initial surprise, they realized that Milady was just choosing which side she knew would win.

“She already knew that Constance and Anne were gathering information about a plot against the queen,” Aramis explained. “She knew that it wouldn’t be too long before the scheme to accuse the queen of treason fell apart and she was tried.”

Athos rolled his eyes. “Yes, let’s avoid attributing her actions to any goodness of heart or sense of morality.”

“So what are we still doing here?” Porthos slapped his hat on his head. “Let’s get out of here.”

Aramis stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. “Slow down, my friend. We have instructions from the Queen and Constance to wait until they have sent word. Rochefort plans to incapacitate the Musketeers with a number of Red Guards in the days leading up to the big reveal. And none of us are known for holding our temper with those brutes.” 

Porthos nodded. 

“Do Constance and the Queen have a plan?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Yes,” Athos said. “But I do not know it. You should have more faith in them D’Artagnan.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about. It’s those villains seeping out of the walls of the castle and what they may do to my Constance and our Queen.”

Aramis snickered. “Constance can handle herself D’Artagnan. I’ve seen her wield a sword and from what I’ve heard she can handle a gun, too,” he lifted an eyebrow, “You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”

D’Artagnan smirked, blushed and looked down at the table.  
“She wanted to know how to defend herself. And I could never say no to her.” 

“That explains the child,” Aramis replied. Athos smacked him in the back of the head, but D’Artagnan laughed. 

“So now we wait?” He asked.

“Now we wait,” Athos replied. 

\---------  
The Musketeers, used to action and adventure, felt trapped at Athos’ estate. Everyone except D’Artagnan, who took the time getting to know his daughter and tell her stories of her mother. 

But one day they heard a sound they hadn’t heard yet: a horse thundering down the road toward the estate.

Porthos, Aramis and Athos were practicing in the yard. D’Artagnan exited the side door with Annie in his arms. She was pulling on his hair and giggling.

“Who is it?” He asked, brimming with excitement and fear.

The hooded figure on the horse approached as all the Musketeers trained their weapons in its direction.

A hand removed the hood to reveal….

“Constance!” D’Artagnan ran to her. He used his free hand to grab her face and inspect her. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks and her mouth. 

“D’Artagnan!” She laughed. “I’m fine. But I missed both of you so much it felt as though my heart would never feel whole again. Let me see her.”

He handed their daughter over to her arms. She beamed into Annie’s face, who began playing the same game of grabbing hair she had been playing with her father.

“Hello, little love,” Constance cooed. “You are loved very much by very many people.”

“That she is,” Porthos beamed as all the Musketeers watched the reunited family. 

Constance and D’Artagnan both had tears in their eyes. They held on to each other and to their daughter. Constance kept switching her gaze between her daughter and her love. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “We need to get back to Paris as soon as possible. It’s time.”

The Musketeers sprung into action, excited to return to the city. They all began shouting questions at Constance about the plans. She laughed and told them to be patient because Queen Anne wanted to meet with all of them to discuss the plan. 

Constance made a wrap to wear Annie in while she was riding her horse. The Musketeers prepared their horses and attached their few personal belongings and those provisions they thought they’d need on the relatively short journey. They departed, with Constance, D’Artagnan and their daughter in the back. 

The parents shared a smile and headed toward a brighter future for their family.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I am so sorry I have been away for so long. And I apologize for this chapter. Léon got away from me. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd and barely proofread so my apologies for any mistakes.

Queen Anne, Constance and Tréville met with the four Musketeers in the queen’s private rooms. Milady de Winter was present as well, having smuggled the Musketeers in by her old tricks. 

“This is a tangled mess,” Porthos said, running his hand down his face wearily.

“So Rochefort is a Spanish spy who is also working with French nobles to execute the queen? Whose side is he on?” D’Artagnan asked Constance.

Queen Anne stepped forward and spoke vehemently.

“He is on no side but his own. He feels that I have betrayed him and he has managed to convince the French nobles that I am the traitor and my son a bastard. I have no reason to believe that my brother would sanction any violent action against myself. My brother loves me.” 

Here the queen stopped, choking back a sob. Aramis stepped forward as if to comfort her but a look from Athos stopped him in his pursuit. And Constance already held the queen’s hand in comfort. 

“I’m sorry,” Queen Anne lifted her chin in strength; “We must set forward our plan now. Rochefort is a double agent who has betrayed two countries. Our best course of action is to expose him to both sides.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Asked D’Artagnan. “He hasn’t exactly left any witnesses.”

Constance set her gaze on her lover. 

“He thinks he hasn’t. But the queen has had me following him for weeks now. I saw him murder men for questioning him even the slightest bit,” Constance grew paler recounting tales of the numerous deaths Rochefort had caused.

D’Artagnan’s jaw tensed and he glared at the queen. 

“You could have been killed, Constance!”

“No! I was careful and I wanted to help. I needed to help. And I am perfectly capable of handling myself. But I also had to return to Bonacieux’s house and gather his correspondence, as well. I felt sick that I could betray my husband in this way.”

Here, Constance crossed the room and pressed on a fleur de lis carved in the wall. It opened to reveal a hidden space behind a fresco. 

“I always thought it was just a rumor that the queen’s room had secret compartments,” Aramis said to Porthos.

“Even queens have secrets to hide, Aramis,” the queen said with a half smile. She took the box Constance handed to her. Athos rolled his eyes. 

“The first thing we have is messages sent to Rochefort by his Spanish contacts. It details the information he has sent previously and what information is required of him next. There is also a list of the French nobles joining his plot to frame me for betraying the king,” the queen said. 

“I thought the man was smarter than to leave all this information lying about,” Porthos said.

“He is.” Milady de Winter finally spoke. “But he does keep them for a few days before destroying them.”

The queen sighed, “Even though I would not count Milady as a friend, she has been invaluable in notifying us when there is important correspondence. She also forged the documents so that their disappearance wouldn’t be noticed.” 

“Why have you waited until now to show this to the king?” Porthos asked.

“Rochefort has the king’s ear. He has not allowed me an audience with him ‘for the king’s protection.’ He is trying to alienate me from my husband and to paint me in the portrait of betrayer.” The queen pursed her lips. “I will not have it. The next time that the king will be in my presence is at the Dauphin’s birthday.”

“In two days,” Tréville said.

“Yes, in two days,” the queen smiled. “So, are you ready to create a scene my loyal Musketeers?”

 

\---------  
“But I’ve never met your brother, Constance,” D’Artagnan complained, trailing behind her on the Paris street. 

He is being extremely petulant this morning, thought Constance, even for him.

“Well, my love,” she replied, “He was forbidden by Bonacieux from coming round so often after he began to question my happiness. And I begged him to stay away for the sake of my marriage. And after I met you, I was ashamed to see him for fear that he would see it in my eyes that I was in love. And Léon is the only family member with whom I am still close. And do you really want our daughter anywhere near the palace during this confrontation?”

“That was a lot of ‘ands’.”

“I am trying to make a point here.”

“I know that. I just can’t imagine leaving her at any point, let alone at a time like this!”

“You know that she will leave us one day.”

“Yes. But that will be her choice. I never want her to be able to say that her father left her. Let her be one of the few who can say that she wishes she never had to leave her family.”

Constance reached her free hand up to his face.

“You are a darling.” She handed Annie over to him. “But now it is time for you to meet my brother.” 

She knocked on the door of a nicely maintained home. No answer. She knocked again.

“Coming!” A voice called from within. The door was ripped open by a redheaded young man in a disheveled state. 

“Connie!” He cried out, pulling Constance into a hug. He pulled back and searched her face. “Are you alright? Did you really mean it when you said you didn’t want me to kill the bastard, Bonacieux?”

She slapped him on the back of the head. 

“Let there be no talk of murder, Léon. I want you to meet someone.” She summoned D’Artagnan closer. “This is D’Artagnan. He’s a Musketeer. And this is…”

“My niece! Oh, don’t look so surprised, Connie. It seems that you have made friends of many of the Musketeers.” He waggled his eyebrows but Constance didn’t hit him this time. “A rather rough looking man named Athos stopped by to give me some money and to warn me that my niece was to be treated with the utmost care.”

He turned his gaze to the man at his sister’s side.

“D’Artagnan! It’s lovely to meet the man who seems to have made my sister happier than she’s been in years. If only I could have helped her get away from Bonacieux. But all seems to be working itself out now. Come inside, come inside.”

After an enthusiastic handshake with D’Artagnan he gestured the little family into his small home. 

“Excuse the mess,” he awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair, “I, uh, haven’t really thought about cleaning up at all.”

He needn’t have been so ashamed. The home, though small, was relatively clean with only a few used dishes lying around. Through a door could be spotted a neatly arranged bed with a scattering of clothes around it.

Constance had seen much worse of a mess in D’Artagnan’s room.

D’Artagnan himself seemed to be rather in shock over the exceedingly enthusiastic Léon. He watched the other man move in energetic bursts around the room. 

“Where did I put that? Yes! Here it is. You still like Shakespeare, don’t you Connie,” Léon extended a small volume toward her. 

“Uh – that is,” Constance stopped and looked into her brother’s eyes. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve had the time to read. But it’s a perfect gift.”

She gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. He then handed her a small wooden horse. 

“For Annie. When she’s older.” He turned to D’Artagnan. “I’m sorry, old boy. Athos told me you were a farmboy and I wasn’t sure you could read.”

Rather than be offended, D’Artagnan dissolved in laughter. 

“Hold your niece before I drop her in laughter,” D’artagnan said, handing his daughter over to the amusing young man. “I appreciate all you are willing to do for Constance, Monsieur…”

Léon slapped himself in the head, “Saperlipoppette! My apologies. I am Léon Armand, brother of the beautiful Constance and owner of the bookshop around the corner. How about we all sit down for a lovely meal so that you can ease your worries about leaving your daughter in my care. Eh, D’Artagnan?”

Constance and D’Artagnan watched as the ecstatic uncle cuddled his niece. They shared a smile and sat down in the home they would come to spend many wonderful evenings. 

But only after the dark business at the palace was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A variation of the exclamation "saperlipopette" didn't seem to come into existence for several hundred years. But I like the sound of it.
> 
> Léon was only supposed to be present for a couple of paragraphs. But then, like the over-excited man he is, he took over. I think his character explains a lot about Constance's own character, though. They are different, but they both have an energetic kindness, a strength of character and morality and an unbending will to protect others. 
> 
> I was inspired by this tumblr post and its hashtags (or hashbrowns if you're Kimmy Schmidt) to give Constance a brother, even though I don't think they will do it (but fervently hope they will!): http://i-think-ur-all-mad.tumblr.com/post/119674974272/looks-like-the-actor-dan-parr-is-going-to-be-in
> 
> His last name (and Constance's maiden name) actually comes from another French brother I adore. Armand St. Just is the brother of Marguerite in the Scarlet Pimpernel. I do wish he had been more open with his sister, like Léon, but it has been several years since I've read the book.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Emily Dickinson poem "Hope is the thing with feathers."
> 
> Hope is the thing with feathers  
> That perches in the soul,  
> And sings the tune without the words,  
> And never stops at all, 
> 
> And sweetest in the gale is heard;  
> And sore must be the storm  
> That could abash the little bird  
> That kept so many warm. 
> 
> I’ve heard it in the chillest land,  
> And on the strangest sea;  
> Yet, never, in extremity,  
> It asked a crumb of me.


End file.
